Flames...
Hot, searing flames...
The entire city was drowning in them, as orange fire devoured everything in its path.
No one was spared from its blistering touch, nor was there any way to escape it. A wall of fire guarded every route, so none could flee from its grasp.
Screams of agony and terror echoed through the air—those unable to escape were either pinned beneath burning rubble or incinerated alive. Not even the sky was untouched by the blaze; its former beauty was defiled by thick, black smoke that smothered it like a suffocating shroud.
He saw it. He saw everything, even though he was far above, in the skies—higher still than the smoke-choked heavens—watching from above with his heavenly eyes.
And yet, it didn't faze him. He felt no sympathy, no care for the fates of those burning below, for it had nothing to do with him—nor with his current predicament.
He turned his eyes toward the thing—
Then there was that thing—watching the destruction with a twisted grin, reveling in the chaos it had wrought.
The architect of this nightmare.
A dragon.
A massive red dragon, cloaked in crimson scales that shimmered with a fiery glow.
He didn't know why the dragon had unleashed its inferno upon the land, nor was he interested in prying into its reasons.
He had more pressing matters to worry about—such as the mystery behind his transmigration into this unknown and unfamiliar world, an unfortunate event over which he had no control. Only those who governed fate knew what had brought him to this moment.
The only good thing was that he had been transmigrated as his game character—from his favorite MMORPG. Yet, even that came with its own set of problems. Was he the only one who had experienced this? Were there others like him? And if so, where were they?
But now wasn't the time to ponder the hows or whys. For now, there was only one thing he needed to focus on:
The dragon.
And then came another pressing question:
Should I step in and try to save the city?
In all honesty, he wouldn't have troubled himself to personally intervene in the matter.
After all, what was the point of saving a city already on the brink of ruination?
To some, it was morally reprehensible to simply stand by and watch innocent people die—especially when you possessed the power to stop it. They said it was evil to ignore suffering when you could make a difference.
Those who refused to interfere when the weak were oppressed by the powerful were, in their eyes, no better than the oppressors themselves—some idealistic nonsense along those lines.
Just thinking about that made him laugh—those self-righteous fools who had nothing better to do than poke their noses into problems that didn't concern them.
Fortunately, he never believed in such foolishness.
He never had.
He believed in something else—self-preservation.
From his perspective, it was the single most important principle in life. All he cared about was his own survival. He had already prepared himself to leave the city to its unfortunate fate.
Besides, this wasn't his problem. If the people who were still alive couldn't do anything to protect themselves, then they deserved whatever fate awaited them. After all, who told them to be born weak?
He was about to leave—when he saw something that made him stop.
A new presence was flying toward the city, even as the dragon continued its merciless assault. Fire still poured down like rain, incinerating the already-ruined city. It was like trying to drown a man who had already drowned—a pointless display of overkill.
Upon closer inspection, the entity was a woman, soaring through the skies. She wore flowing robes—Chinese-style robes. He didn't know what they were called. His knowledge of traditional foreign attire was limited at best.
Another one? Let's see how this one fares.
He had already seen several others dressed similarly, wielding strange powers—and all of them had ended up reduced to ash by the dragon.
Now that I think about it… the city—at least how it looked before becoming a furnace—had a distinctly Chinese aesthetic. It reminded me of those old fantasy dramas, like wuxia or xianxia.
The woman arrived, and with a wave of her hand, extinguished a wave of fire.
Wind magic? he wondered. No… something tells me it's not magic. Not the kind I know, at least. It's something entirely different—the same power the others before her used... and I need to find out what it is.
He had to understand the strange power system she was using. Who knew—perhaps it held abilities that could genuinely pose a threat to him.
His lack of knowledge about this world was something that could one day become a liability. The same principle applied in the MMORPG he had played: you had to understand your environment. He needed to know how his abilities matched up here—and what the ceiling of this world's power hierarchy—the echelon—really was.
Then, without warning, the woman charged the dragon.
A black sword materialized in her hand—he recognized it instantly.
A dao sword.
Such weapons existed in the game too. He even owned one—a divine-rank dao, one of the highest-tier weapons available. Judging by appearance, the one in her hand wasn't anywhere near his level. Still, he couldn't be certain.
This was also the first time he had seen a dao sword used by anyone facing the dragon. Most of the others had relied on spears, lances, fans, or even fought barehanded.
He watched as the woman struck the dragon—but its scales resisted the blow with ease. With a single exhale from its nostrils, it blasted her back at high speed. She slammed into the ground, carving a crater into the earth as she coughed up blood.
Not exactly a brilliant display of power... I don't know why I expected more from her.
Still, if I had to make an estimate, I'd place the dragon at level 70. The woman… perhaps somewhere between level 45 and 60. It's a rough guess, of course—without understanding this world's system, I can't be sure.
He gave the woman a pitying look. The fight was already lost. Even a five-level gap was significant—often the difference between victory and total annihilation.
Well, time to go. Not much point in watching a fight when I already know how it ends. Though… it does concern me.
The level cap in the game is 150. No one could exceed it unless the developers raised it. But what if this world has no such limit? What if there are beings beyond level 150?
Then he saw the woman barely managing to stand, blood dripping from her wounds. Her eyes slowly locked onto the sky—onto him.
Huh? Why is she looking in my direction? Has she become aware of my presence?
It was hard to believe. He had made himself invisible. No one under level 80 should have been able to sense him. And this woman certainly wasn't at that level.
So how did she manage to see—or sense—him?
Was it because of the power system she was using?
Or was it just a coincidence?
Ishould confirm this.
He pointed his index finger at himself.
The woman responded with a slight nod, her eyes pleading.
I see.
But at that moment, the dragon also noticed him. It let out a thunderous roar and charged toward him.
He sighed, adjusted his stance, and raised a hand.
Then fired a spell.
"[Dark Flame]"
A torrent of black fire descended upon the dragon, obliterating it instantly. The creature didn't even have time to resist—it was incinerated on the spot.
That spell was one of his strongest. It completely bypassed fire immunity, meaning even if the dragon had multiple layers of protection, the moment the spell touched it—it was over.
Some might ask why he used one of his most powerful spells right away.
The answer was simple: it was the most logical option.
The woman, meanwhile, stood frozen in shock.
He ignored her.
Descending slowly toward the city.
He needed answers.